Roses of my Good Intentions
by Twilit Lady of Majesty
Summary: The Happy Mask Salesman decided to leave the Clock Tower for the first time. Along with experiencing the bright culture of Clock Town, he falls in love with a woman already loyal to another. The Happy Mask SalesmanxAnju (one-sided) T for future dark themes
1. Chapter 1

The boy rushes past me, determination shining in his eyes. What more do I wish but to be stuck in this endless loop of time. Three days. Reset. Three days. Reset. Patterns are not my friend, the leave no mysteries, _nothing to be curious about_. I sigh, and watch the boy use all of his force to open the large wooden door. The bell above me chimes eight times as the door swings closed. I sigh, and feel a sudden longing to leave from beneath the clock tower. I do not wish to leave Termina, _ohoho_ do I wish to stay. Although the apocalypse occurs in three days, it never happens. Time resets just as the moon begins its more visible yet slow and devastating course towards Clock Town.

My eyes are locked onto the door, examining the handprints left by the boy in the built up dust. I hesitate a moment, my leg half out to take a step in the direction on the door, and I return to my standing position. A small sigh escapes my mouth. I haven't been outside in what must have been months. I shake my head, and approach the door with careful steps.

My hand meets the warm door, and I push, applying hardly any of my strength. The door moves open, and I peer out into the sunlight. The cheerful atmosphere of Clock Town contrasts greatly with the gloomy feel of beneath the clock tower. I take a step, placing my foot cautiously outside the door. I move to place another foot into the sun, but I quickly retreat behind the edge of the door at the sound of a dog's growl. I look around the corner, and the dog stands expectantly, it's dark eyes focused on me. I heave a heavy sigh, and begin my slow exit again. One foot in front of the other. Before I know it, the door is closed and I'm standing before the clock tower. The growl of the dog has faded into the distance, and my breathing becomes just a bit easier.

I glance around at the construction site before me, smiling slightly. The workers rush around, some carrying boards, others simply running. A small laugh escapes my mouth. My eyes shift to my right, where they meet a curious sight. A flower of great proportions grows from the paved ground. I inch towards it, keeping my eyes focused on the plant. What could this be? I crouch down, and reach a hand out to it. Just as my fingers touch the petals, a voice calls from above,"Wait!" I yank my hand away, and begin to look around for the owner of the voice.

"Wait! That is my private property!" it says, becoming louder. I glance up, and a deku scrub carrying a couple bags of mystery items lands on the flower.

"I apologize," I say, standing and dusting myself off. He turns for a moment, and I take the chance to scurry away.

"And don't use it when I'm not around!" He shouts after me. What would I use a giant flower for? I shrug it off as my feet carry me up a set of stairs beside the tower. I take a left turn, and then stop. My eyes scan the area that I'll be entering. Several buildings of commercial use are set in a square. A pathway full of residential homes and several businesses appear to be leading up to it.

I climb the small flight of stairs, and hesitate once more. This area is curiously empty. I walk out, slightly more confident than when I exited the tower. An excited smile is creeping onto my face. This truly isn't so bad. I continue slowly through the town, wary of where I am.

I turn the corner into the path which leads up to the square, and I'm met with colors. Loads of them. Red flowers sit upon green window sills, plants are scattered about. Even the people lingering here are colorful. Their clothing is mismatched to perfection, and their hair just goes better with it. My smile grows, eventually becoming exaggerated, as I pass the townsfolk. Their eyes follow me, examine me, but I attempt to ignore them. Why must people be so rude sometimes?

As I continue down the path, I'm met by a man running what must be a bank. He just gives me a blank stare.

"Here," I say, handing him about one hundred rupees,"put them under the name 'Happy Mask Salesman'." I walk away, enjoying the morning sun. It's beautiful. The sky is clear blue, not a speck of cloud in sight. The sun brightens it, making it all the much better.

Time rambles along, the hours slowly switching, one after the other. Before I know it, it's already noon, and the sun is directly above me. I peer up at it, squinting my eyes in the process. I attempt to keep my eyes focused on it for a few moments, and then I return to walking. I'm not positively sure where I'm going. This town is so full of life and places to go, it's almost overwhelming. A sigh escapes my mouth before quickly turning back to a smile.

The clock tower's entrance comes back in to view, and I'm instantly disappointed. It would have been wonderful to stay out and about for the rest of the day. Examining wares at stores, hoping to gain another mask for my collection. Yet, and time surely tells me, I better return to my spot beneath the clock tower.

I approach the wooden door, and breathe. The smell of old wood mingles with the scent of new, unfinished wood. My smile fades to a faint grin as I place a hand of the door. I glance over my shoulder, regretful that I didn't spend the day wandering the town, and sigh. My eyes shift the other way, and as I'm pushing the door open, I spot a boy wearing a mask. A smile instantly pops onto my face, and I feel a sudden longing to obtain said mask.

I tiptoe over to him, careful not to make any noise. He appears to be getting a letter out of the mailbox.

"Hello!" I shout, scaring the boy. His face turns to mine, and for a brief second, pure fear is expressed from him. He quickly retrieves his letter, and scurries off, an occasional sob drifting behind him.

I had not meant to scare him. Yes, the fear was slightly enjoyable, but I never meant to make him cry. The mask was truly the only reason I approached him. I turn away, and in spite of my previous decision to return to the clock tower, I decide to roam the town in search of something to keep my mind busy. The thought of that mask will pester me until I'm distracted.


	2. Chapter 2

The calm and collected sky deeply contrasts with my internal stability. My mind can't move past the thought of the boy's mask. It's cat-like features made prominent in a simply designed children's facial accessory. Or, perhaps it's a Keaton? That would change its meaning, and use, from a childish play toy, to a mask of deep meaning. Despite the mask's true identity, it still must be mine.

While my thoughts continue to revolve around the thought of obtaining the mask, I wander into a section of Clock Town which interests me more than the others. It has several commercial buildings, and an inn. Why does this interest me so? It's always silent. Hardly anyone is out in this area, unlike the other lively sections of this town. My face relaxes into a light smile as I meander into the center of the area. I glance to my side, and two men are tossing a ball back and forth. What a curious sight. They don't even appear to be aware of the actions they're carrying out. I feel an extreme need to approach them. To speak to them. Hold a conversation with them. But I hold myself back. Social interaction with these two people doesn't seem necessary. They show no emotion unlike the most other residents of this town. They do not look like they could be easily swayed by my attempts to prevent their never-ending loop.

I turn away, and face the inn. Possibly, just maybe, I could find someone of interest. I allow my feet to take me there, despite the fear beginning to crawl up my spine. Anxiety is about to grab hold of me, and I'm unable to fight it off. I hesitate before the door, and begin to shake with fear. I stretch my hand to the door knob and grab hold before I fall prey to my fear. In one final breath, I push the door open.

The first thing that hits me is the intense smell of roses and cinnamon. It's so strong it's practically overwhelming. As I take a deeper breath, the musty smell of unkept clothes and mold lies beneath the apparent cover up scent.

I drag my feet through the door, struggling to enter. My hands are shaking uncontrollably now. I do not know why I have gained so much fear towards this inn. Maybe the fact that people act in sensual ways behind the locked doors of the rooms. Maybe it's the thought of a great outward appearance, but a horrifyingly disgusting inward personality.

With all of my force, I push the door closed behind me, causing the receptionist to glance up. Her eyes are strikingly blue, their color contrasting greatly with her rose colored hair. A smile is plastered over her face, making me absolutely positive that her real one must be stunning.

"Good day," she greets, her eyes locked onto the bag of masks I carry with me.

"Good day," I mutter, approaching the reception desk quietly. Why must I be so nervous around her? She's just another repetitive resident of this town. She'll forget me in a matter of days.

"Do you wish to rent a room? We currently have one vacancy," She replies, those lines obviously rehearsed for hours on end.

"Ahaha, yes ma'am. I'd like to stay in a room," What am I saying? I'm only out for a short stroll. Not a prolonged stay.

"Well, let me just write you into our guest notebook," She says, snatching a pen up from next to her. She flips a small notebook open to the current day, and begins to write, hesitating when reaching my name. "Your name is?" She asks, staring expectantly up at me. My heart stops at the sight of her eyes on my own.

"The Happy Mask Salesman," I reply, smiling uneasily. She blinks back at me for a moment before scribbling down my name.

"Here's your key," she says, handing me a partially rusted metal key,"go to your room when you feel. You don't pay until tomorrow." I nod in response, and turn to the stairs. My feet move a bit easier now that I know I'll return to my solitude, even if it's with other people nearby.

The stairs creak and groan as I march up them. The carpet has worn down in spots, showing the dirty, unfinished wood beneath. I let out a disappointed sigh, and continue to the top. I glance down at my key to check my room number. _Number 4_. I sigh, and scan the doors along the hallway. My room is the one in the center of the hallway. I roll my eyes, and take my time reaching the room. This is one of the few things I truly dread.

I step close to the door, and insert the key, twisting it back and forth several times before the door swings open. I drag myself inside, remove the key from the door, and slam it behind me. I toss the key to the center of the floor, and let a sigh escape my mouth.

The room is hideous. The wallpaper is peeling in some spots, revealing the mold covered wall. The fireplace has ages of uncleaned ashes left in it, practically filling the entire thing. And the bed looks like the most unsanitary thing you can lay eyes upon. The sheets are already messed up, a full rainbow of stains are spread across the originally white sheets, the pillow looks hard as a rock, and the mattress has bits of dirt, hair, and mold embedded into it. I cringe at the mere thought of sleeping in it. Despite the rest of the room, the chair in the corner looks comfortable enough. I approach it, and pull it to the center of the room. I sit, allowing myself to relax as far backwards as possible while still wearing my bag of masks. They will not leave my back until I die. And even then, I'll still have them on my back.

My eyes begin to wander around the small room. Nothing of particular interest is here. Some dead flowers in a vase of cloudy water. An empty, broken picture frame. A window with broken, poorly kept shades. I don't understand how this place can stay open with such poor management, but then again, it is the only inn in town. I take a deep breath in, and instantly feel nauseous. The smell of dirty laundry and, yet again, mold attacks me. The scent is stifling. I don't think I can handle it for three days, let alone today. I cough, and turn, glancing at the window. Maybe if I were to let some air in here, the room would become bearable, or as close to it as possible.

I stand from my chair, and stumble to the window. I shove the blinds out of the way in attempt to find some sort of latch or lock keeping the window shut. Nothing. The window is built into the building. I allow a short sigh to escape my mouth, and I quickly return to my seat.

The room is far from silent. Music echoes from down the hall, the people chatting out in the hallway, even my own breathing is audible. I glance at the clock, and I realize that it also has a curious noise of its own. It's a low clicking noise that sounds every time a second passes. It's repetitive, yet calming. Maybe because I'm so used to the deep drone of the Clock Tower clock, this one reminds me of it. A smile decides to make an appearance on my face.


	3. Chapter 3

I don't know why I've chosen to stay at this petty little inn. Yes, it's more _luxurious_ than my dusty old clock tower, but this place just has an odd sense of... _sad_.

I struggle to keep the smile on my face. The perpetual grin for once, wants to go away. Perhaps it's the ambience. I don't hear laughter, I hear strangled, forced, and angry retorts being thrown around. The sad drone of music, which at first sounded happy, does nothing but enhance the small inn's feeling of depression.

A sigh escapes my lips, and I finally let the corners of my mouth fall into a straight line. It feels odd. Not having my ears back, teeth showing, eyes no longer squinted. I can see more, but I don't like more. It's distracting. Keeps me from seeing only what I want, and need, to see.

As I move my gaze around the room, the music beings to grow loud. Slowly, yes, but it's getting louder. I don't know if I like it. Perhaps it's just me. Music has never been a thing I've been_ in to. _It doesn't make sense. It's just a bunch of noises strung together to create what people like to call '_a song_'.

As the music continues it's steady crescendo, I rise from my chair. Despite my previously mentioned dislike towards the sounds, my curiosity has won the best of me, and I must investigate.

Quietly, as not to disturb or alert whoever must be in the hall, I slide towards the door. Placing one hand above the doorknob, and the other on the brass itself, I inch open the cracking old wood. The music quickly begins to increase in volume, and I deem it safe to put away my '_I must be silent_' act.

"Hello, sir," I say, smiling at the man moping down the hallway. His eyes stay glued to the floor, hand perpetually turning the crank on his music box. It appears that he's also come in contact with the inn's vicious, and _oh so_ persistent sadness.

"Hello," he groans. I shut the door behind me, and press my back against the wood, as to make room for the man to pass. He drifts along, taking no moment to acknowledge me further. A spark of anger flickers somewhere within me, but it feels out of place. No need to be angry. This man doesn't know me.

"How are you feeling today, sir?" I ask, quickly catching up to his side. As I move closer, the intense smell of body odor, and what seems to be _urine_, attack my nose. My first reaction is to cringe and quickly bound away, but then I realize that I must be in the same shape as him.

"Okay..." He mutters, the pace of his music slowing. The sad, accordion sounding notes have worked their way into a repetitive loop, quickly being lost into the ambience of the inn, despite its blaring volume. I finger the fringe of my shirt, and swallow nervously.

"How has your day been?" I'm not good at social interaction.

"Okay..." The man repeats, beginning his slow decent down the stairs. I stay slightly ahead of him, to keep out of his cloud of stench. I probably shouldn't talk so badly about his smell, but coming from someone who's lived beneath a clock and bathed in sewage water for, what I'm guessing are months, it's slightly more acceptable.

I grunt in aggravation. This guy refuses to talk to me. I don't know if it's my lack of social skills, or maybe his, but whatever the problem is, I want to know.

As we reach the landing, I fall back into step with the... _musician_. My eyes caress the music box, sliding over every crevice of the contraption. The dark, what I'm assuming is copper, bell of the box is beaten and covered with iron patches. The box itself though is made purely of wood. I'm not sure what kind, but it's clearly old. Deep nicks and scratches weave their way over, around, and throughout the instrument, creating an unintentional work of art. I said I don't like music, I never said anything about the instruments used to create it. My eyes follow the marks until they reach something incredible. A mask. This mask is beautiful. With flowing wings surrounding a small, probably plastic beak, the male Cucco mask is stunning.

"Sir," I smile at him," where did you acquire that _mask_ on the back of your music box."

"It's a grinder organ," he mumbles. Quickly raising his voice, he adds," I got my mask from dog who led an animal troupe," he hesitates," stole it."

A dog? How could a _dog_ have come into possession of a mask as divine as this? "Would you mind if I, _looked at it_?"

"Go ahead," he says, his voice quickly returning to it's normal, almost silent volume. The man opens the door, and I follow him out, leaving the disgusting scent of cinnamon and roses.

I delicately snatch the mask off of the box, and begin turning it over in my hands. The fine curves, elegant wings, and deep ruby eyes are amazing. This mask truly is lovely.

"I love your mask," I state, smiling again. The man looks back at me.

"Thank you, it's quite dear to me," his attitude seems to have changed a little.

"I didn't catch your name, what is it, again?"

"Guru-guru," he says with a nod. The name strikes me familiar. I've heard it somewhere before... Maybe we've met up in the past, or perhaps I've simply heard it in conversation before. Whatever the matter is, this man," this delightful friend," I continue aloud," would hopefully, _lend_ me his mask."

His eyes meet mine, and I know he's torn. Hopefully this street dweller will give me this mask. I'll simply get him to lend it to me, keep it until the three days restart, and _voilà_! This delicious treasure of mine will be added to my ever-growing collection.

"Maybe..." He says, his voice growing soft again. This man is _full_ of emotions.

Our walk continues in silence. I decide not to press the subject, perhaps I can chip away at him until he gives the mask to me.

The moon is bright and large, taking up most of the sky's space. The red, gleaming eyes have no affect on me, although I've heard a few people state their fear and anxiety towards them, and the rest of the moon itself. The mouth, full of rotting, yellow and brown teeth simply enhances the whole effect, giving it a slightly scarier, and more unnerving tone. I like it.

As we pass the rows of flower pots, the red flowers catch my eye again. I extend a hand, and rip one from it's soil. I don't know what compelled me to take it, maybe its just the color, but it might come in handy later.

"Where might we be going?" I ask, bending to look at the man's face.

"The laundry hole," Guru-guru says," it's where I stay. I wasn't planning on you follow me."

"Ah yes, of course, I just wanted to complement you on this mask. By the way, you never answered my question," hopefully he'll lend it to me," can I borrow your mask?"

"Sure," he says without hesitation. Maybe he was getting fed up with me.

"Why thank you," I say, smiling wide and giving the man a little bow. _Ohoho yes_, it's _mine_, _all mine_. This beautiful piece of art belongs to _me_ now.

"Have a nice day," I say, waving Guru-guru off. He nods, smirks slightly, and trudges off into the depths of night. I spin on my heel, and head straight for the inn, rose in one hand, mask in the other.

* * *

_A/N_

_Oh my god finally. Haha it's been FOREVER since I updated this, haha and I finally got around to it. I hope you like it so far, it's one of my favorite stories to work on. I love writing from the Happy Mask Salesman's point of view. The way he looks at things is just... Wonderful. Anyways guys, haha enough of my fangirling- thanks for reading, and have a super fantastic day!_

_-Twilit Lady of Majesty_


	4. Chapter 4

I greet the receptionist with a nervous smile. I clutch the rose behind my back, and jab my thumb into one of it's many thorns, to keep my mind off of the heavy task of socializing.

"Hello," I say, approaching the desk she stands behind. Not until now have I noticed what stunning eyes she has. They're causing some feeling inside of me... I don't know if I like it. It's foreign.

"Hi," she greets, a smile popping onto her face. It's the same, fake expression as the last time we met. I don't see why she needs to hide anything. She thumbs over the lip of an envelope as we stand in silence. The dry, yellowing paper must hold something important, he hands can't seem to stay still when it's nearby.

"Might I ask what time it is?" I ask, suddenly aware that I might need to return to the clock tower soon.

"Oh, yes sir," she dashes off down the hall, her red hair trailing behind her. The receptionist takes the letter with her, probably to read it while she's "checking the time".

She returns," half past midnight." A smile, a _real_ smile, has worked it's way onto her face. It's dazzling. I swallow nervously as the unnatural feeling reoccurs.

"Thank you dear, and might I ask your name?" I flash a smile, and she flinches. Goddesses, is that sweat I feel dripping down my back?

"Anju. My name's Anju," she repeats, giving a curt nod after. I calm my mouth into a firm line, and purse my lips.

"Wonderful to meet you." I spin on my heel, and flee to my room, not bothering to properly dismiss myself. As I fumble through my pockets for the key, my nerves begin to calm themselves. Perhaps there's more to socializing than I originally thought.

The translucent, mucus-colored window is the first thing my eyes meet when I enter the room. It's the only object that provides a substantial amount of light for the room, and is, oddly, comforting. The blurry rays filtering through the filth are slightly reminiscent of the clock tower, holding a small amount of what might be called "_home_".

I push the door closed, and slink over to the poor excuse for a bed. The stains and mold are still as I left them, showing that no one has thought to clean my room, thankfully. Nothing of importance is in here, of mine, but knowing that it's kept private relieves a bit of my tension. I collapse face first onto the disgusting sheets, having enough sense of mind to hold my breath until I roll to my back. Wouldn't want to get a _disease_. No telling how many different _vermin_ have come in contact with this piece of trash.

The masks on my back creak and moan softly as I ease my weight onto the bag. Nayru, if one were to snap I think I'd lose my mind over it. But then again, I-

"Hello?" A knock sounds from my door. A breath escapes my mouth and I trudge over to the door, already tensing up at the thought of interaction with another. With a quick motion I pull the door open, and smile.

"Hello, is there something you need?" I ask, holding back a laugh.

"Oh, excuse me," the woman says, something fearful growing in her eyes. She pulls her brown-red hair over her shoulders, and adjusts the small ponytail atop it.

"I was looking for a man-"

"Oh yes, I'be seen such a man," who would want to see Guru-guru, with his sewer-esque resemblance? "We walked back to his home just minutes ago."

"Great, well me and my sister-"

"Ah, he lives by the laundry pool, dear."

She blinks, her golden irises shining," Thank you s-"

"My pleasure." And I slam the door in her face.

That was an aggravating exchange of words. Asking me questions. Expecting me to _help_. Yes, seeing others in a better state than me after seeking my aid, is nice, but she was already better than me. Her clothes, hair, the way she _smelled_.

My eyes shift to the clock as I return to my _bed_. A quarter past midnight. Great. With luck it's only the second day. I wouldn't want to be stuck in this _disgusting_ cycle of time, like these other citizens. It must be horrendous having to repeat everything you do, every word you say, day after day, not even realizing it's happening. I'm glad I get to avoid it.

* * *

Morning comes with great haste. By the time I manage to force my eyes open, a storm has already gotten well underway. Less than two days until I'm caught in this mess.

I swing my feet off of the bed, and drop them to the floor. I stand with a slight spring, a sudden energy filling me. Today I could investigate that _feeling_ that rises around Anju, and maybe revisit the boy with the cat mask. My mouth waters at the thought of it. I need it.

The now-familiar and usual scent of roses and cinnamon reach m nose as I enter the lobby. No one has made a sound since I exited my room this morning. _Strange_.

As I pass the reception desk, memories from the night before hit me in the face. I blush as I recall the short conversation had with the red-headed receptionist, and returning from my walk with Guru-guru just moments before. That man was a wreck, I'll admit that I was beginning to feel a small amount of pity towards him. Or perhaps that was just the mask calling my name.

Placing a hand on the brass doorknob of Stockpot Inn's entrance, I suck in another breath of the heavily scented air. Why they chose roses combined with cinnamon, I'm not sure. I begin to pull open the door when I remember the rose in my bag.

Without thinking, I extend an arm back and into the brown sack, feeling around for the petals, or perhaps a thorn, of the rose. I successfully retrieve it, and slide over to the desk. Just leave the rose and exit. Just leave it, she'll never know it was you. What? Why am I doing this? I retract my hand, the rose still entangled in my fingers. Why would I leave a rose for the receptionist? I ponder this for a moment longer, and drop the rose on the desk. It's dying, anyways. No need for something that's going to whither away in a few hours.

* * *

_A/N_

_This chapter was just a bunch of filler junk, in case you didn't notice. Maybe I'll have the Rosa sisters reappear later, perhaps Guru-guru will meet back up with our happy little merchant friend. Who knows what I'll do, but whatever it is, it'll be definitely more interesting than anything that happened in this chapter. He's confusing, the happy mask salesman. So conflicted about that rose that it almost didn't make sense. Well, anywho, thanks for reading, and have a great day!_

_-Twilit Lady of Majesty_


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